


In Which Pepper, in Maria’s Opinion, Could Have Done Better, and Tony is Anxious and Stressed at the Very Same Time

by TheBiSpy



Series: The Red Pepper Café [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (wait for it), BAMF, BAMF Pepper Potts, Bruce Is a Good Bro, Cafe AU, Domestic Bliss, Domestic™, F/M, Kinda, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Punk Steve Rogers, Rhodey - Freeform, SO, Tags are a bitch, Wedding Fluff, anyway, just a couple of guys bein dudes, like that’s a surprise, pure babs, she just puts up with Tony, so is, wow shocker, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13202421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBiSpy/pseuds/TheBiSpy
Summary: How the Café begins





	In Which Pepper, in Maria’s Opinion, Could Have Done Better, and Tony is Anxious and Stressed at the Very Same Time

**Author's Note:**

> Basic Domestic Pepperony life and the begging of a beautiful series. Have fun

_I said yes_

Maria Hill gets the text while in the middle of a very important meeting about some very important things that she doesn’t remember. She had to excuse herself rather politely before running into a bathroom stall and screaming in both, a) happiness, and b) pure, unadulterated fear. 

_YOU DID WHAT_

Pepper gets the text in the middle of a very important project about some very important things she doesn’t remember. She looks at the small diamond encased in platinum on her elegant and perfectly manicured ring finger before replying. 

_I said yes_ , she typed simply. 

Maria sighed, collapsing on a toilet, without realising the lid had, rather unfortunately, been left up in this particular instance and so she tipped over slightly and, ungracefully, made several whale-like noises in an attempt to stop her pencil skirt getting covered in toilet water and make sure her phone didn’t fall in the toilet bowl. Straightening up, she placed the toilet lids down and began typing out a reply. 

_You_ , she began, _could have done SO MUCH BETTER._

Pepper laughed, attracting the attention of several coworkers nearby before shrugging apologetically. 

_I have no idea what you mean._

Maria sighed again. 

_You are PEPPER FUCKING POTTS. and you settle for TONY FUCKING STARK._

A reply came in soon after. 

_Are you trying to destroy my engagement?_

_No, I’m just saying... he’s the same guy who got suspended for setting a LAB on fire. IN FIFTH GRADE._

_It was a tiny fire._

_He calls cake ‘gateau’!_

_I think it’s very sweet._

_ugh Pepper.  
I am actually happy for you._

_:)_

 

_She said yes._

Clint gets the text at 12:30 pm. He doesn’t open it until 12:45, when he eventually decides that maybe waking up fully might be a good idea. He decides that waking himself up by nearly rendering a heart attack is not a good kind of wake up, no matter how good his happy hearts intentions may be. 

_She did wHAT_

Tony gets the text at 12:46 exactly. He’s covered in gateau batter, loud music playing through the shiny Bose speakers installed in his apartment.  
“Jarvis,” he said to the round disc shaped object on the marble kitchen bench. Jarvis is what he likes to call ‘Alexa but flatter, golder, and better’. 

“Yes sir?”  
Alexa but flatter, golder, and better. Does Alexa address him by ‘sir’? No, she doesn’t. 

“Text Clint something sassy.” He said, licking batter off a Jamie Oliver brand spatula. 

“Right away, sir.” 

_She said yes._

Clint gets the text in the middle of making coffee. He decided that Tony’s ‘wit’ can wait. Coffee first.  
When the dark nectar of the gods had completed its journey that began in the fields of Africa on fair trade farms (he had done his research) into his ‘Sleep is Better than People’ mug, he sat down on a kitchen stool, looking at his phone. 

_You know what this means???_

_Uh, she’s mine?_

_First correction: you’re hers. Pepper doesn’t become people’s; people become h e r s._

_Ok, fair enough._

_Second correction:  
wedding._

“Fuck.” Tony said, realisation dawning upon him. 

And thus our story begins. 

 

“Ok ok ok. But,” Tony began, on the phone to Bruce. “You’re science.”

“I am the embodiment of all science, yes.” Bruce replied, phone on speaker, extremely carefully measuring out 7mol-1 of vegetable oil (donated by the wonderful Tony Stark himself) into one of seven test tubes. 

“Tell me the difference between beige and eggshell.” 

Bruce laughed at the exasperation in his friends voice. 

“You think this is funny.” 

“I really do. How is this science?” He asked, straightening up and clicking his back. 

“Gross! I heard all of those clicks!” Tony exclaimed with disgust, much to Bruce’s amusement. 

“Shouldn’t you be asking Steve what the difference is? He is, after all, an actual artist who works with paint and colour and stuff.” Bruce began measuring out some form of acid into the same test tubes, taking note of the red label on the side with a skull on it. 

“I’ve already asked him. He says it doesn’t matter all that much. I thought you might have some form of explanation.” Tony was scrolling through Yahoo! Answers pages of vague explanations for the differences, most ending in ‘there’s no real difference’ which wouldn’t be enough of an answer for Tony Stark. “Bruce, this is dire; not even Yahoo! Answers knows the yahoo answer.” 

“You,” Bruce said while struggling with a syringe. “Are a mess. How long have you been planning this, what, five months?” 

Tony groaned, thumping his head against the IKEA desk beneath him. 

“Dude. What’s this even for?” 

“Uh... the invite paper.” 

Bruce nearly dropped the test tube he was holding, swearing under his breath as the biofuel test tubes nearly scattered their eco-friendly contents on the lab floor. “The hell? Tony!” 

“I know it’s dumb-“

“Tony, buddy, listen. Just pay Steve-“

“He’s already doing the photos!” 

“Dude, it’s extra money for him, and he enjoys that kind of thing-“

“He won’t take the damn money from my account, he’ll say it’s a favour and he’s honoured or some bullsh-“

“Tony, force the money on him if need be. But get him to please just make the damn invites.” Bruce said as he flipped the _ON_ switch for the centrifuge and washed his hands. He heard Tony whimper slightly in defeat before hanging up.  
Bridezilla, Bruce thinks. 

 

“I haven’t heard that much about the ‘big day’ from you, Pepper.” Maria said while stirring sugar into her black coffee. The two were sitting in the corner of a café, jazz playing through the speakers while customers talked in quiet tones. The warm light from the autumn sun outside filtered through the large windows, gold leaves blowing along the pavement. 

“I don’t want to overwhelm people. Have you heard Tony?” She asked, sipping her latte. 

“I’ve grown accustomed to blocking his voice out. Why, is he the bridezilla of you two?” 

“Sadly,” Pepper replied, raising her eyebrows. “He’s spent the past five months trying to make everything perfect to an insane level. It’s stressing me out.” 

“Well, they say sex is a great stress reliever.” Maria looked at her over her coffee. 

Pepper sighed, stirring her latte aimlessly, mixing the froth with the coffee beneath until it was more of a wet, sugary bubble mixture than froth. “You don’t think that happens?” 

“I never said that, I was merely suggesting you have more. Anyway; we know what has been sorted which is brilliant. What still needs doing?”

“Reception, Best Man, cake, guest list. I’m trying to get Tony to make it less extravagant but...”

“But it’s Tony Stark. Son of Howard Stark. They shit money like we shit breakfast.” Maria sighed, tapping her fingers against the table while taking a thoughtful sip of coffee. “The Best Man question is easy; just get Rhodey. The two have known each other since birth. Cake? Get Tony to bake it. He’d love to have an excuse to bake an extravagant cake.” 

“Those are the most simple and straightforward answers to the questions I’ve been pondering for the past month I’m surprised I didn’t think of them earlier.” Pepper said, defeated. 

“I know, I’m amazing.” 

“You are.” Pepper looked out the window in a slightly melancholy manner, before realising the old couple at the window probably thought she was staring at them, and were giving her evils. 

 

From the sunny day in July when Tony had the balls of diamond to propose to Pepper after four years of dating and putting up with each other’s complaints about a) work, b) friends, c) racist relatives, and d) work, to what Tony had hoped would be a beautiful bright and snowy day on the 1st of December, the two had stressed themselves to the point that not even therapeutic sex was therapeutic and Tony had had a total of 4 stress breakdowns. Howard, Tony’s nearly completely absent father in every other instance but this, had funded most of the wedding, and Maria Stark had rolled her eyes with Pepper as the two billionaires had made the ceremony all the rather extravagant. The two hadn’t even planned a honeymoon. Maria (Hill) said this was stupid. Maria (Stark) said this was stupid. Pepper (Potts) agreed.  
Tony, however, had a plan. He was ridiculously smug about it. Maria (Stark), Maria (Hill), and Rhodey (Rhodes) had all slapped him half heartedly. All their energy was going towards helping organise the wedding day. 

Steve had excelled at making invites, with lovely snow white paper and black cursive font with lilac ribbon borders. Tony somehow managed to pay him, despite Steve’s (predicted) protests.  
Bruce had laughed at Tony’s stress and offered several different kinds of aromatherapy for both him and Pepper, none of which were entirely successful but it’s the thought that counts.  
Peter, Tony’s nephew, had occasionally visited, but after the mess in Tony and Pepper’s apartment had become overwhelming, he had stuck to talking to his uncle via text.  
Rhodey had merely laughed.  
Some friendship, thought Tony. 

And the wedding day soon came. Tony had prayed for there to be snow on the 1st of December all throughout November, but unfortunately, they had light showers and freezing wind in New York. Rhodey’s flight was delayed by an hour, Steve was coming down with the flu, Clint hadn’t woken up until an hour and a half before the wedding (an hour of which would be spent trying to drive through New York City), Tony’s suit had been lost in piles of dry cleaning, and Bruce lost the rings. The only people who were completely organised were Maria, Pepper, and the bridesmaids.  
Yet somehow, everyone managed to be on time. 

Rhodey, while looking slightly disheveled, had stood tall in a smart black suit that was slightly plainer than Tony’s (who had, at the last minute, been able to find his and pull it on). Steve had, unbelievably, in Tony’s opinion, managed to find a suit that could fit around his small frame, but unsurprisingly, his emerald-dyed hair refused to cooperate. Clint actually managed to look good, despite the late awakening and the last-minute caffeine pills (Steve had heard him muttering his apologies to the coffee gods). And Bruce found the rings.  
Everything went smoothly until the reception. 

The reception, in question, was a large room in the Four Seasons Hotel (much to both Steve and Bruce’s collective amusement and horror) that Howard had booked for the party of 150 people. One may note, that when there are a room of 150 people including but not limited to a bride who is desperately itching for a tequila, a maid of honour who will take any form of alcohol she can get, a groom with daddy issues (+ his dad), a best man who is more than slightly overwhelmed, a man high off his balls of caffeine pills, a green-haired punk who is no taller than 5”4, and only one (1) responsible adult, in the Four Seasons Hotel, things will go downhill fast. 

The best man speech involved several variations of Tony’s name, the highlights including ‘Tiny Sting’, ‘Tik Tok Song’, ‘Theo sJames’, and ‘Titsy Prick’ (which got a glare from the classy waiters who were pouring champagne into everyone’s elegant crystal glasses).  
Maria simply said; “Tony, congrats. Pepper, why.” 

 

“Oh good. Tequila.” Pepper sighed as the waiters in the room walked around smartly when the evening began. Maria raised an eyebrow as her friend downed a shot glass in two seconds and put it back on the silver tray with a clink. 

“You really needed one of those, didn’t you.” Maria asked, swirling the red wine around her glass. 

“You have no idea. All these people and all this fuss and ugh... I have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Hm, well, so did Han Solo and he _died_.” Maria muttered into her glass before downing it rather ungracefully. She wiped her lips before continuing. “Shall I give you a list of everything that could go wrong?” 

“Be my guest.” Pepper sighed, taking another shot of tequila from a tray. 

“Let’s think. There’s about 100 people left in the room, only a few you know really well. Tony’s ok, but Howard’s here so...” she made a ‘so/so’ motion with her hand. “Uh, Rhodey is super tired and- yikes ok,” she muttered as Rhodey took a tequila shot from a waiter looking gradually more afraid with each shot of the bitter alcohol people took from his silver tray. “Clint has had far more caffeine pills than what is, I’m pretty sure, legal so we’ll call him ‘high’. I- oh thank you,” she took a cocktail of some kind from a waitress that passed her. “I just want enough alcohol to stop the perpetual internal screaming. Bruce is the really only responsible one here. Oh yeah, and Steve’s under legal drinking age.” 

Pepper nearly spat out some of the pink cocktail that had somehow appeared in her hand. “What’d you mean?” 

“Legal drinking age is 21. He’s only just 20.” Maria shrugged. “How did you forget?” 

“Because his Baileys Irish Cream Coffee is so damn good!” Pepper hissed, looking for a shock of bright green hair. “Oh, please tell me he’s not drunk,” Pepper groaned. 

“Wait, look.” Maria pointed to a corner of the room where Steve was fiddling with his camera. He was scowling at something, but looked perfectly sober. “Guess he didn’t want a repeat of last time.” 

“Last time?” Pepper asked over her cocktail. 

“Oh, last year when you and Tony held that New Year thing. He had three weird vodka martini things and passed out. Peggy and Angie took him home.” 

“Ah. The vodka martini’s.” She took a sip of cocktail before continuing. “Hey, didn’t they go out?” Pepper frowned. 

“What, Steve and Peggy? When they were like, 15, sure. And then they broke up. As you do. Because reasons or something, I’m pretty sure Peggy said once that they were really just friends with a sudden spark of passion who kissed once or twice awkwardly and tried to make things work out but neither had their heart in it in the long run.” 

“Ah,” Pepper sighed dramatically. “Young love.” 

“You are married at 25,” Maria pointed out. 

Pepper smiled, finishing the last of her cocktail, cheeks slightly redder than when she began. “I know. But you know it’s perfect.” 

Maria groaned. “Ew. Sappy. The alcohol is going to your damn head.”  
Pepper giggled. 

 

“Where’s Peg and Angie?” Pepper asked Tony later in the evening. 

“They left ages ago,” Steve responded instead. The three were standing against a wall, watching the guests converse, dance, and get progressively more and more drunk.  
“I have a feeling that it was the sensible option. They did leave their regards to you two; ‘Pepper, Tony, hooray. Make sure no one dies’.” 

“That’s an awfully big ask.” Tony replied, nursing a whisky and watching through a gap in the crowd as a heated argument began. The man had a sobriety level to envy. Pepper didn’t envy it at this point in time, content to be slightly tipsy as to have an excuse not to intervene in any testosterone fuelled rage party’s. That was up to Tony tonight. 

“Guys this is _your_ wedding. If it looks like- oh fuck _me_ ” Steve said as one of Tony’s second cousins (of whom Tony had never met before that particular moment) took the drunken initiative to punch someone. That someone, however, was Bruce, who had taken kickboxing and ju jitsu since second grade and mastered both, and one thing anyone will tell you about Bruce is that actively picking a fight with him is the human equivalent of Pacific Rim, but he’s the American Godzilla and you’re still a human. 

“Tony,” Pepper whined. “This is your job tonight-“

“Nope I wanna watch this.” Tony said with an evil glint in his eyes. “Wait shit Steve-“ he grabbed for the shorter mans blazer but Steve had slipped away, camera lying on a table nearby. 

Bruce had flipped the second cousin, that for tales sake is called Collin, onto a table and was at this point strangling him while Collin repeatedly punched Bruce in the gut. 

“Guys, break it up,” Steve said calmly, shrugging off the blazer and discarding it on a chair. 

“Ain’t none of your business, fag,” another second cousin, this time of Pepper’s, slurred. 

And if picking a fight with Bruce would land you in Accident and Emergency, picking a fight with Steve is like an infinitely pissed off cat perpetually scratching you, and provoking a fight was far easier with Steve than Bruce. So the homophobic remark was taken quite to heart, after years of the word being shouted at him across corridors and while being beaten up in locker rooms, and soon enough Pepper’s second cousin, whom shall now be christened Balthazar, had 90 pounds of fury and green hair thrown at him. 

“Do you _still_ want to watch this?” Pepper huffed, turning to Tony. 

“Nope,” he said, lips pulled into a flat line. “C’mon Bruce, you were supposed to be the _responsible_ one.”

While Bruce had the upper hand on Collin, Steve was being pummelled by Balthazar but refused to give up. Tony sighed before speaking loudly over the noise around them. 

“Alright kids, it’s all fun and games until someone is a prick, someone tell me what’s going on?” 

“He called him a fag,” one of Pepper’s cousins, whom Tony in fact knew to be Caroline, shrugged before giggling and falling off her seat. 

“Steve, stop-“ Tony dragged Steve away from Balthazar with force, Steve glaring at him while Balthazar was restrained by his brother. “Bruce, why are you strangling my second cousin whom I have never met?”

“He was being an ignorant, misogynistic, good for nothing, racist _dickhead_ -“ 

“Calmeth thy tiddies. Fucking hell, _Bruce lay off it_ -“ Tony said with much needed force. Clint grabbed Bruce and pulled him of Collin. 

Tony grabbed a microphone from where the speakers were playing quiet music and turned up the volume so the entire room could hear. “Ok kids, it’s all great until the human equivalents of thirteen year old meth labs decide to share their outdated right winged opinions so I’m gonna ask very seriously.” He inhaled deeply, composing himself. “Any other people who wear bigotry and hatred as a label can leave _now_.” 

“Excuse me, sir.” A man in a Four Seasons uniform tapped Tony on the shoulder. “But we’re going to have to ask you and your party to leave. It is nearly closing time, and some of your party have started a brawl which we cannot permit on these premises.” 

Tony nodded. “Ok, we’re all going to have to leave no matter our political views.” 

And the room emptied quickly as many were too tired or drunk to bother complaining. 

 

In the lobby, Clint, Maria, Steve, Rhodey, and Pepper, all stood as the guests trickled out the door, saying their goodbyes. 

“Well,” Maria said with a hiccough. “That was...”

“Interesting?” Pepper mumbled from where she not so much as stood next to, but leaned upon, Maria out of pure fatigue and mild drunkenness. 

Steve was nursing a few bruises on his face, and a split lip that he was pressing a napkin to gingerly. 

“You need an ice pack.” Rhodey said. “And some common sense.” 

Steve glared at him from the corner of his eye. “I’ll get ice when I get home,” he sighed. “I’m just glad I took out my piercings this morning.” 

“Hey, if you need a lift my car’s outside.” Clint said. “And I’m wide awake. Kinda. I doubt I’ll fall asleep before three thirty.” 

“Thanks, Clint.” 

“Ok, are we clearing up? I don’t care what the answer is, I just wanna get home.” Tony walked over to the group from where his parents were leaving. 

“Dear old Dad being a pain in the balls?” Clint asked. Maria glared at him. 

Tony sighed, rubbing his face. “Tell me about it. First off it’s all nice and ‘well done son’ and I think, hey maybe this will be ok. But then it’s ‘you did alright this time, but make sure she’s not too feisty, also I’d stop hanging around with poofs, crack addicts, and maybe also sort that Maria girl out as well’.” 

Maria raised an eyebrow. Pepper exhaled deeply. Steve raised his hands above his head in defeat. 

“Why do people always use the worst terms for ‘gay’? I’m not even gay!” The receptionists gave them a dark look. Steve shrugged, but lowered his voice to an angry hiss. “Why do people think I’m gay? I’m fucking _bisexual. Bi-sex-u-al_!” 

“Chill your balls, Rogers. My Dad’s always been a prick.” 

“Does he really think I’m a crack addict?” Clint asked curiously. “Cool.” 

“Well, I don’t like the way that Bonnie and Clyde are looking at us,” Rhodey began, looking at the receptionists. “And we _were_ asked to leave. So,” he clapped his hands together. “Tony, Pepper, congratulations of the highest regards. Have fun in married life, this was all... very fun.”

“And all the best to you. Until we meet again!” Tony said dramatically, pulling Rhodey into a hug. “Safe flight etc. Merry travels to all.” 

The group said goodbye and made their respective ways back through New York City to their respective apartments and residences. 

When Tony and Pepper arrived back at their apartment, Pepper said very firmly she was far too overwhelmed and tired for any form of sexual activity. Tony agreed with her, and the two instead ordered pizza, watched The Office in bed until 4 am, before sleeping until the afternoon. 

They then ordered more pizza, watched more of The Office, and then went back to bed. 

 

“I have a plan for tomorrow.” Tony said while the two lay under the thick duvet. 

Pepper hummed. “Oh yeah? And does this plan involve waking up _before_ 10 am?” 

“Nope. We can be there whenever we want to be. Call it unscheduled.” 

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Seems pretty scheduled if you _have_ a plan.” 

“Shh, Peps. All will be revealed.” 

 

The next day, Tony drove the two through New York City to Manhattan where, on a delightfully artistic street corner sat a building, four floors high, and completely empty. Around it were different shops selling various different things, and above the door of the building was a sign saying ‘SOLD’ in big red lettering. 

“What the heck..?” Pepper breathed. “Tony..?”

“Come inside!” He pulled out a pair of keys, jangling as he put them in the lock on the glass doors at the front, leading Pepper inside. 

Inside, was a completely open space, large and airy and empty except for the dust that floated in the air. There was a staircase at the back of the room leading upwards to the three floors above it, of which again were spacious and empty. The walls were bare, exposed red brick, and the roof was slightly mouldy in some places. 

“Ok, before you freak out because, _yes, I bought some of a building_ but wait there’s a plan; I was thinking instead of going _away_ for a honeymoon, we stay here in NYC, and we renovate this junk heap and we start out very own café.” 

Pepper looked at him as though he’d completely out of blue suggested they renovate a building and turn it into a café of their own. “Tony..?”

“You say that a lot. I know I know, it’s a big thing, but the project has no deadlines, dear old Dad decided to help fund it, I’ve put money towards it, we can hire people we know to work here, I’ve spoken to Clint and he knows what kind of coffee machine he wants to put in and he said he’d buy it himself, but I won’t let that happen, it’s in a great place, when it’s up and running I’ll do the managing stuff-“

“No you won’t, you don’t like to be handed things. _I’ll_ be the manager. You can just be the face of the brand.” 

Tony grinned. “So, is that a go ahead?” 

Pepper smiled, laughing. “Yes, Tony.” 

Tony clapped his hands together, ecstatic. “You are going to _love_ the ideas I’ve had, Pepper this is amazing, we are going to have so much _fun_...”

Pepper let him continue talking as she took in the exposed brick walls, bare concrete floors and high ceilings, with large glass windows facing the busy street. The second floor and upwards had old floorboards and the same exposed brick walls, and she had a thought. 

“We _are_ planning to live here, right?” 

Tony cut a sentence off short. “If you want to.”

Pepper grinned. 

 

And over the course of a year, the café was transformed from an old, slightly mouldy shop, to a stunning chic café. The first floor was left with exposed brick walls, large hanging lights giving off a warm orange glow over the stylish dark brown wooden floor. The tables in the centre of the room were black and polished wood, and along the right hand wall were five cozy booths. Along the walls hung classy posters of old films and vintage coffee adverts, and a few bits from one of Howard’s old motorcycles. The counter sat in between a glass display case of different cakes (“gateaux, Pepper!”), slices, and muffins, and a sleek coffee machine that Clint had found. He’d found two, one at the very top of the range that he suggested as a joke, another, far cheaper one. Clint nearly had a heart attack when he saw which one Tony bought. The front counter had a cash machine that was once a typewriter, but had been slightly modified. There was a smaller counter next to the coffee machine, and several shelves behind with different jars of coffee beans and bottles of syrup, labeled with delicate tags (credited to Steve) stating their contents. There were also cabinets with cutlery, plates, and mugs beneath the counters, all with a plain white design with a coffee bean engraved into the side. Speakers were installed in each corner, with a speaker jack at the till. There was a blackboard with neat writing behind the counter, stating the menu and prices (credited to Pepper). 

The other three floors were renovated to become Pepper and Tony’s new house. A kitchen was located on the second floor of the building, with large windows that looked over the street below, with a dining room in the same open plan space. There was also a reading nook that Pepper insisted on having, in amongst a large bookshelf. There was a cozy living room on the third floor, complete with a plush couch covered in throws and large TV, and a fake fireplace in the corner. On the fourth floor were two bedrooms with en suits. Tony and Pepper’s had a large bed with a thick duvet and large cushions. The walls had been covered up and instead painted a neutral grey, with large windows on one wall. 

Peter had been far more present than before the wedding, and spent many days after school studying upstairs as to get out of his Aunt May’s hair.  
Clint quit his old job at an obscure IT company the minute he could, saying he’d rather be doing something useful with his caffeine addiction instead of wasting away in a grey office building.  
Steve was hired half time, when he could work out of art school hours.  
Maria said she would stay far away from the work, although occasionally gave Pepper a hand with paperwork.  
Rhodey couldn’t make the opening ceremony, but getting away from the army at that point in time was going to be difficult.  
Bruce said he would take their old cooking oil for his lab, as they needed more for biofuel. Tony decided to advertise the idea on the tiny menus on each table. 

 

“What are we calling our baby, Peps?” Tony asked one day. 

“The café is our baby?” Pepper grinned. 

“One of them if you want more or our only child if you don’t. But they don’t have a name yet.” 

“Do you have any ideas?” Pepper asked while picking up a TV remote and scrolling through Netflix. 

“Nope. I mean, we could use your name or something, ‘Salt and Pepper’s’-“

“That is a terrible idea. Let’s think about it. For now, come and watch shitty TV shows.” 

And while watching shitty TV shows, Tony came up with the name of ‘Red Pepper Café’. The name, somehow, stuck. 

And on the day the _Red Pepper Café_ finally opened, the first picture was placed on the left wall, next to a blackboard with the words ‘ _Our Story_ ’ written in neat font. It was one from Pepper and Tony’s wedding; purple and blue light filtered through the lens from the lights at the Four Seasons, and Tony and Pepper were laughing together mid dance, foreheads touching, and faces glowing with pure, unadulterated love.

**Author's Note:**

> That was great fun. Don’t expect this to be updated regularly. Because I suck. Anyway. Look forward to part two.


End file.
